


Father, Father

by LettersFromTheAsylum



Series: Dick Grayson in New York City [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, White Collar
Genre: Bank Robbery, Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 08:43:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5779165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettersFromTheAsylum/pseuds/LettersFromTheAsylum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Burke and Bruce Wayne were similar in one huge way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father, Father

Hostage in a bank robbery. In all the years he had been fighting crime with Batman as Robin, undercover as a criminal and fighting crime as Nightwing, he had  _ never _ been a  _ hostage _ . 

 

“Can you get us out of here?” Mozzie asked.

 

Mozzie wasn’t even supposed to be there. This had been an undercover operation gone wrong, and Mozzie had been the reason it had gone wrong. Of course, Mozzie didn’t know Neal was undercover. Not until the guns had already been held to their heads and they were already bound to each other. 

 

There were only three of them, which either meant that they had more confidence than they ought to, or they really were that good. Neal was confident that he could take them, but that would mean showcasing his abilities for Peter and the entire white collar division. It was a better alternative than getting shot, no matter how unsavory the thought of being outed as Nightwing was.

 

Neal rattled the chains, studying the lock. “Yes,”

 

It was awkward and slightly painful reaching for his lock picks, but he managed it. He released himself from the metal cuffs before releasing Mozzie and ordering him to release Peter. Neal raced to the door and opened it slowly, ignoring the quiet protests from Peter. After double-checking that the hallways were clear, Neal turned to his companions.

 

“There’s no one there, but stay behind me.”  Suddenly, Peter had a gun in his hands and Neal suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“I have a gun, I go first.” Peter said, pushing past Neal.

 

When it came down to it, Neal was more powerful than a gun, but he didn’t expect Peter to know that. 

  
  


The hallways were quiet, which was odd because the place was being robbed. Shouldn’t there be more sirens and cops?

 

“This is all your fault! I told you we should’ve just left the fed, but you didn’t listen!” A voice yelled from around the corner. Peter stopped walking and pushed Neal and Mozzie against the wall, pressing himself to the wall beside them. Neal actually rolled his eyes this time, and Mozzie saw it. 

 

The source of the voice, was getting closer, and Neal felt his heart speed up at the prospect of getting to fight. It was true that heroes weren’t supposed to like fighting, and it wasn’t that Neal liked to fight, but he has been weighed down by the anklet and hasn’t had the chance to go patrolling.

 

Sure enough, the man came around the corner, unknowingly walking right past the three. Neal’s fingers itched, and just as he was about to pounce at the man, Peter brought his gun to the man’s head. Mozzie shot a sympathetic glance towards Neal, who visibly deflated.

 

“Don’t say anything, drop your gun and walk forward.” Peter demanded. 

 

The man complied, setting the very illegal fully-automatic M16 on the ground and holding up his hands where Peter could see them. He walked forward until his chest hit a door and Peter told Neal to take his handcuffs and cuff the man. Neal obeyed.

 

Through the whole thing, the man was silent. His silence was setting off a thousand red-flags, but Neal knew he had no plausible reason to be worried.

 

That is, until the guy grabbed Neal into a headlock and put a knife to his throat.

 

“Drop the knife!” Peter ordered, as quietly as he could. 

 

If Peter didn’t know any better, he’d say Neal was actually  _ happy _ . He didn’t have the slightest hint of panic on his face and it was almost like he was at the Met and not in a bank with a knife to his throat. His eyes were wide and bright with boyish glee and Peter wondered if he was right in the head.

 

“That has to be the fastest lock-picking I’ve ever seen,” Mozzie said, wonder in his tone. 

 

Peter wondered if they were seeing the same thing he was. Mozzie was excited about lock picking and Neal had a  _ knife _ to his throat. Maybe Peter was being uptight, but he couldn’t think of a reason to be happy about that.

 

“You’re gonna let me out of here, or your friend dies,” The man said.

 

Neal chuckled, and Peter wondered again if Neal had hit his head.

 

“Or,” Neal said, and suddenly the man was on the floor clutching his sides. Neal had flipped him and disarmed him and Peter had never thought Neal was capable of it.

 

Neal clenched his fists and tore his eyes away from the man writhing in pain on the floor and looked at Mozzie and Peter. _ Peter. _

 

In his eagerness to fight, he had forgotten that Peter didn’t know about him. He didn’t know Neal’s real name was Dick Grayson, or that he was the adopted son of Bruce Wayne aka Batman, therefore he didn’t know he was Nightwing. Peter didn’t know anything, but he got the feeling that was about to change.

 

They managed to escape without another incident. Despite being perfectly capable of defending himself, Neal followed behind Peter and Mozzie, just like Peter wanted. Peter never said a word after Neal did what he did, and Neal didn’t know if he was shocked or angry. 

 

Once they were safely outside, the FBI and Swat teams raided the building. Neal thought fifteen men for three robbers - one without a gun - was overkill, but maybe that was just the highly skilled combatant in him talking. The two men didn’t shoot, apparently they had enough sense to realise they were overpowered. The third had to be wheeled out, and Neal didn’t miss the questioning stares he got from Peter as they loaded the man into an ambulance. 

 

Mozzie had appeared beside him. “What are you going to tell him?” 

 

“Nothing.”

 

Mozzie scoffed. “Neal, the Suit is like a dog, he won’t stop sniffing around until he finds his bone.” 

 

Neal sighed. Mozzie was right, Peter was stubborn. 

 

“I don’t know, Moz. I can’t tell him the truth.”

 

As if on cue, Peter appeared behind the two. Neal pretended not to notice the new addition, even though he could feel Peter’s presence. Batman had taught him to always be aware of his surroundings, so even when Peter thought he was being stealthy, Neal had known he was approaching before he had even crossed the street.

 

Mozzie tensed. “Suit,” he said before quietly walking away.

 

Peter shook his head as he watched the shorter con man leave. He had no clue how Neal picked his friends. 

 

“So,’ he started awkwardly, glancing at Neal. He had expected Neal start, but when he kept his steely blue eyes on the bank, Peter sighed.

 

“Damn it, Neal, that was really dangerous!” Peter scolded. Neal showed no sign of hearing him other than scowling at the building in front of them.

 

Neal could feel Peter’s stare boring into him and finally glanced at him, feeling uncomfortable. “It’s not dangerous for me.” He said, moving to walk away.

 

Peter grabbed his arm, preventing him from leaving, forcing him to explain.

 

“What does that mean?” Peter’s concern wasn’t surprising, but when Neal met his eyes, he saw someone else. The man who saved him, took him in and cared for him. Bruce Wayne called him a son, and Neal didn’t think Peter and Bruce were all that different.

 

A lifetime ago, Dick had been out patrolling when his foot got caught on a piece of metal, sending him flying down some stairs. Bruce had been there, with the same concern in his eyes, holding him as he held his broken foot. 

 

“I - I can’t tell you.” Neal said softly, feeling guilt rise in his chest.

 

He never could lie to Bruce. Even as a teenager, he found himself incapable of lying to him, and he always blamed his eyes. You could see the concern, or the anger, or the sadness, and the lie stopped before it ever got to his throat. Something about the raw honesty in his eyes…

 

The exact thing Neal saw in Peter’s. So when he saw the anger in Peter’s eyes, it was all he could do to keep the tears out of his eyes.

 

“What do you mean you can’t tell me? You just broke that guy’s ribs.” Peter gripped Neal’s arm harder, causing Neal to grimace. 

 

Neal shook his head and pulled Peter’s hand off his arm. 

 

“I just can’t. I’m sorry, Peter.” It hurt, because those were his last words to Bruce before he left Gotham. He turned away, unable to see Peter’s reaction, but imagining it was the same as Bruce’s.

  
And as he was walking away from Peter, he was walking away from Bruce, too.


End file.
